


Specter

by Chickenparm



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Guns, On Hiatus, Post-Apocalypse, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Violence, general fallout shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chickenparm/pseuds/Chickenparm
Summary: Jules couldn’t remember a time in her life where she couldn’t feel the presence of her soulmate.The first time she reached for it, just like her Father instructed her, she could liken the feeling to a child’s hand being slapped when reaching for the cookie jar.CURRENTLY ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa look, here I am, writing garbage again. Come be garbage with me, friends. Who knows how long this one's gonna be, god bless. 
> 
> Just like all my other stories, this is unbeta'd because I'm a rebel without a cause.

Jules couldn’t remember a time in her life where she couldn’t feel the presence of her soulmate.

A constant specter at the back of her mind, constantly there but out of reach. When she was old enough to ask her father at the tender age of eight, and got the explanation for the awareness of another being in her mind, she was elated. A soulmate! Someone meant for only her!

The first time she reached for it, just like her Father instructed her, she could liken the feeling to a child’s hand being slapped when reaching for the cookie jar. Her little heart broke. When she told her Father, he explained that perhaps they were unaware of soulmates, and pushed off her presence in panic. He suggested she wait a few days, then try again.

The few days turned into a few weeks, until Jules reached out again for her soulmate. Tentatively, this time. The eagerness of last time had been slapped out of her, and she almost expected the same reaction this time. 

She was right.

Jules only tried once more, a full year later, before finally giving up. Someday, she would talk to them in person and explain everything. Until then, she could be patient – content with the knowledge that somewhere in the vault was her soulmate. But who?

Everyone met their soulmate at least once in their life. It was destiny, her Father said. Beyond the scope of science and reason. No one entered Vault 101, and no one left. Her soulmate was here somewhere, but who could be here that was unaware of their destiny? Every night, before bed, she clasped her hands in front of her nose under the covers and prayed to every deity she knew of that it wasn’t Butch DeLoria.

It wasn’t. 

One morning, nine years after her last attempt to contact her soulmate, she was yanked from her bed by Amata and forced into the bright world above the vault. Her stomach fell, but then it soared. On one hand, her soulmate was somewhere in the great huge world. On the other, her soulmate had been able to survive out here.

And it _wasn’t Butch._

Getting used to the Wasteland was hard work, supplemented by her vital need to begin gathering the currency used in this strange new world. She’d earned herself a tight sum from Simms for disarming the bomb in Megaton, and after hearing her plight he eagerly gave her the key and deed to a home close to the lip of the crater for her work with the bomb. 

It was hard, but using her knowledge she slowly picked up the skills needed to survive in such a harsh environment. She learned to shoot a rifle, stitch a wound, inject Rad-Away directly into a vein – That one was a hard-earned lesson, and one she paid for in blood and caps to Doc Church in Megaton. After her ordeal, he showed Jules how to do it herself so she would leave him alone for something so minor.

Through all of this, her soulmate was always there, like a presence at her back. Looming, but never reaching. Not once did they attempt to contact her, and her most recent attempts to connect with them left her with a harsher reaction than ever before. Every time, she’d be left with a migraine and a broken heart. 

It didn’t matter – someday she would meet them, Jules assured herself over and over as she killed her first man, skinned her first molerat, bartered for Arefu’s fate, worked on completing Moira’s terrible guide. Every step was one that brought her closer to her soulmate, and she had no doubt that she would be prepared.

Her lonely nights in the Wasteland were spent thinking of what she’d say to them when finally faced with her soulmate. The biggest one was “Why?”

Why push me away? Why have I waited so long? Why don’t you want me?

The last one always brought a pang to Jules’ heart, but she pushed it away. They had to be ignorant of soulmates, she assured herself. No one denied their soulmate, it just didn’t happen. Who would throw away their perfect match? Who could be so… selfish?

 ***

“Hey smoothskin, you said you’re leaving for the Capitol?”

Jules looked up from her pip-boy, making eye-contact with the ghoul bartender, Gob. It was mid-afternoon, only a few locals milling about the saloon to escape the heat from outside. In the corner, the radio crackled with GNR – She’d fixed the satellite almost a month ago, much to Gob’s pleasure. Technically, she was going to Rivet City, not just D.C., but that made no difference to Gob when she said so.

“I-I don’t have much, but since you’re headed out that way… Could you make a stop by Underworld and deliver something for me? Carol’s probably worried sick, she hasn’t heard from me in almost a year…”

Gob, ever worried about a fist landing squarely where his nose used to be, sounded absolutely sure that his question would receive a negative outcome. Jules only smiled with a nod, “Sure. You’ve talked so much about Underworld and Carol, I’ll swing by and see for myself. Maybe I’ll bring you back a souvenir, huh?”

Gob’s face brightened as he dug in the pockets of his threadbare pants and retrieved a crumpled envelope, “Thank you, thank you, Jules. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Gob,” Jules assured as she took the rumpled envelope and tucked it into the inner pocket of her vest, “You’ve paid me enough by giving me all those discounts.”

“Shhh! Not so loud!” Gob looked over his shoulder with a terrified eye, but Moriarty’s door stayed firmly shut without a noise. His shoulders dropped in relief before he turned back to Jules, “Just be safe. D.C. is a real mess.”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve made the trip before.”

Gob nodded and looked to the radio fondly, and only absently gave Jules a wave as she slid from the bar stool and started her return home. Tomorrow morning she’d head out, but tonight would be dedicated to a full bath and a hot meal from her Mr. Handy.

 ***

Jules left Megaton with no fanfare, not that she expected any. Simms knew she was stepping out for a time and had been given the copy of her house’s key, and Gob of course knew as well. Both of them would be asleep at this hour, the sun rising heavy over the horizon in front of her. The ruins of D.C. sprawled across the Potomac, waiting patiently for the Lone Wanderer.

Carefully, Jules picked her way into the city, bodies following her path – Raiders, Talon Company, Super Mutants, Feral Ghouls… All of them left a breadcrumb trail as she went into the heart of D.C. to the Museum of History, as per Gob’s instructions. 

When it was too dark to see, she tucked herself into a boarded-up Radiation King shop and fell into a light sleep after scarfing down a handful of snack cakes. It was impossible to get any actual rest in the Capitol, but traveling at night was even more dangerous. 

The thought crossed her mind to use the subways, but she had never been good at navigating them. The last attempt was when she tried to find Three Dog and somehow, she’d ended up on the south-end of D.C. with a bullet lodged in her shoulder and a slobbering ghoul at her throat. No, it was far easier for her to traverse the ruins above ground. 

There was a secondary reason, as well. 

With every step she took in the direction of the Museum, the pull in her mind grew stronger and stronger. Her soulmate was in that direction, her Father had once told her when explaining how soul bonds worked. Working through the winding subway tunnels would cause the pull to ebb and flow, and she’d much rather keep working in a straight line if possible. It was satisfying, knowing her soulmate was so close. 

They had to know, but there was still not even a peep from the other end of the bond. Not even a twitch. No acknowledgment whatsoever. What kind of soulmate had she been given that they didn’t even acknowledge the bond, even now? Her thoughts were consumed with it, and she was almost distracted enough to shoot the ghoul woman that intercepted her at the entrance to the Museum.

“A tourist, all the way out here. Huh.”

“I’m not a tourist,” Jules assured her, but the ghoul only cocked her lips in a wry smile.

“You aren’t a resident, you’re taking in the sights, walking the streets… Face it, you’re a tourist.”

“Well, I’d like to tour the inside of the museum, then.”

“No one’s stopping you,” The ghoul woman waved a hand at the entrance to the U-Shaped building, “But just know that if you cause trouble, you’ll be dealing with me.”

“No trouble, I promise,” Jules assured, but the woman looked unconvinced as Jules turned her back and started the last stretch of her journey into the Museum. 

As soon as the skull-laden door came into sight, Jules’ brain sparked in some kind of recognition. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to activate at once, like she’d been shocked by the modified hair-dryer she crafted for her father years ago as a birthday present. She didn’t need him here to explain what that feeling was – Soulmate.

Ignoring the mammoth replica and the dinosaur skeleton, she pushed open the door to Underworld and was greeted by a ghoul who was decidedly not her soulmate, not by the blank stare they gave each other before he greeted her. Winthrop, his name was, and they sure didn’t get smoothskins around here that often but he hoped she’d stick around for a little longer.

After directions to the major establishments in the concourse, Winthrop traded her for her scrap metal and sent her on her way. First was Tulip, who excitedly traded for the assault rifles and electronics Jules had picked up on her way into the Capitol. Then, she stopped by Carol’s Place.

“Oh, a smoothskin! And a pretty one, too. What a lovely shade of hair… Oh, Greta, come look at her! What a sight for sore eyes!”

Carol was a sweetheart, giving Jules a small discount on a bed for the next few days and having Greta break out their best Salisbury steak – meaning the least-expired. After a bit of conversation, Jules forked over Gob’s letter and Carol burst into joyful tears as she deciphered Gob’s terrible handwriting. Jules offered to bring a letter of Carol’s back to her son, and the woman set to work immediate in penning an answer. 

In comparison, Carol’s handwriting was flawless, the careful loops and lines of her cursive looking like that of Jules’ old teacher, Mr. Brotch. It brought a pang to her heart in fondness for her old instructor, but it was wiped away when Carol handed over the new letter to be tucked into Jules’ vest once more. 

After dinner, Jules made her way to her final destination for the night – The Ninth Circle.

Her brain screamed at her as she neared the door, her hand resting on the handle. That wasn’t what distracted her, though. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind where a long-dormant connection lay, a tension arose from the other end. Jules was stunned into stillness as she felt the hands on the other side of the bond seize tight. They knew she was here.

That meant her soulmate was on the other side of these double doors. 

They were a ghoul, then. Was that why they tried to deny her? Were they ashamed? Ghouls had been a novel experience in her first weeks in the Wastelands, but that had been over six months ago. She liked to think she was a bit wiser in the way of the world now, and something like that no longer bothered her. So long as they were bound to her, she would want them regardless.

Slowly, Jules opened the door and stepped into the bustling bar. Ghouls surrounded her, and a cursory glance at each face revealed no soulmate. Still, her brain practically was vibrating in her skull, begging her to seek out her other half. Every eye had turned to her when she entered, and most of them were still upon her as she closed the door behind her. If Jules’ soulmate had seen her, they would undoubtedly have stepped up. 

Instead, Jules approached the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, something simple. The bartender leered at her with a look that practically dropped grease, “Of course, angel. You can have anything you want, as long as you have the caps for it.”

“I have ‘em,” Jules pulled out a pre-wrapped roll and carefully began counting what was needed for a glass of her drink. Ahzrukhal took them gleefully and brought her drink in a chilled glass – as best as he could get with a half-functioning refrigerator. 

“So, what brings someone like you to a place like this, hm?” The bartender asked, picking up a glass and an oily rag to begin wiping it down. It only left streaks on the glass, and if Jules wasn’t so thirsty she probably would have set her own glass back on the counter.

“Just running an errand before I step back out in a few days,” Jules answered before sipping the watered-down drink. What a cheapskate. 

It was hard to focus on Ahzrukhal and his sleazy grin while her brain was rattling against her cranium. Soulmate, it begged her, somewhere in this room. Jules didn’t want to bring attention to herself, but the sweat had started to form on her forehead, and the ghoul bartender took notice right away.

“Nervous, are we? There’s no need to be, not with Charon here,” The name struck a chord in her, but she tried to listen to the man’s words, “As long as you stay a paying and docile customer, you won’t have to worry about him. He listens to my every word, you see. Unfailingly, unflinchingly, he is loyal to me. Unless I tell him otherwise, he’s as gentle as a teddy bear while I hold his contract.”

“Contract?” Jules ground out against the cacophony in her mind. Ahzrukhal made no indication that he believed her reaction was anything but anxiety.

“Oh, yes. Charon was raised around a bad sort, and was… brainwashed. He is under the employ of whoever holds his contract, with no exceptions.”

Ahzrukhal’s eyes flashed over Jules’ shoulder to the far corner, just next to the door she’d entered in. His eyes narrowed in some brand of confusion, and Jules took the chance to look at the corner. Her eyes locked with piercing blue, and everything melted around her, leaving the only occupant in the world to be the ghoul in the corner, staring at her with wide eyes and… something unreadable. Almost like anger.

All at once, her brain fell still, and in the place of its panic was complete calm. It was better than her first warm bath in her Megaton home, more comforting than her father’s hands when he’d smoothed back her hair after she’d contracted the flu. It was the first place that had felt like home after being forcibly removed from the vault. 

“That big guy is Charon.”

Ahzrukhal’s voice brought everything back into focus, and Jules swiveled back around on the stool to look at the bartender with a determined look, “His contract. Is he a slave?”

“You wound me, ma’am. Slavery is an abomination. I am _offended_ —”

“How much for his contract?” Jules interrupted his next words. If Ahzrukhal had eyebrows, they would have shot up his forehead, but he instead settled for a wrinkling of the ruined skin of his brow.

“How much do you think it’s worth, angel? Charon is a valuable asset to me, and the Ninth Circle. I won’t part with him easily.”

“One-thousand caps.”

“Three-thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Two, and that’s it,” Jules said shortly, and Ahzrukhal’s chapped lips spread into that greasy grin again. There was a feeling of being cheated, but Jules pushed it away. She would have gladly paid three to get her soulmate out of here, and out of this man’s hands. Undoubtedly, he had been made to do awful things. 

Jules pulled out four rolls of five-hundred caps, and rolled them across the counter to Ahzrukhal. The back of her head burned as blue eyes pierced into it, but she ignored them in favor of picking up the folded paper Ahzrukhal laid on the counter. The contract was faded, the ink almost completely unreadable. The most she could make out were the words “Charon” and “Contract-holder”.

With this piece of paper, she was assured that her soulmate would be leaving the Museum at her back – maybe a bit more forcibly than she’d like, but she’d find a way to break the contract when she was somewhere a bit quieter.

“Congratulations. I’ll give you the pleasure of informing him yourself,” Ahzrukhal said absently as he began to count the caps given to him. Jules slid off the stool to the corner, where Charon was standing as still as a statue. His eyes followed her the entire way, all the way up to where she stood in front of him.

“Why?” Jules blurted out, and Charon’s brow pinched together before he stubbornly cooled his expression and closed his eyes.

“I saw the exchange. I am in your employ, that is good to know. I now serve you, for good or ill, and will place your happiness and well-being over my own—”

“Cut it and just answer me, would you?” Jules pressed, and Charon finally looked down at her once more with a blank expression, one so carefully crafted that it must have come from years of practice.

“Is that an order?”

“Wha—No, of course not, I won’t be ordering you to—”

“Then I won’t answer it. Please wait here, there is something I must do, first.”

Jules watched as he stepped around her and unholstered the gun on his back. Ahzrukhal looked up from his cap-counting, just in time to see down the barrel of Charon’s gun. One shot to the chest, and one to the head was what it took to send the bartender toppling to the floor. The bar was silent for a long moment, before all hell broke loose.

Charon returned to Jules’ side and reattached his gun to his back, “I follow your lead.”


	2. Cakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send nudes and also check out my tumblr, i just repost links to my chapters on there. sometimes i share stuff. i take requests too.
> 
> chickenparm.tumblr.com
> 
> unbeta'd because i'm a dirty nerd with no friends

_“That feeling is your soulmate, sweetheart. Just like your Mother was my other half, somewhere in the world is yours – connected to you through an invisible bond. No one on this Earth will be more suited to you. Someday, when you’re older, your bond will mature and it will guide you to them. For now, how about you just try saying hello, hm?”_

 

Carol hummed quietly as she rubbed at a particularly stubborn stain on a piece of glassware. Greta watched from the end of the bed while her partner worked, a bemused expression across her face. That stain had been there for almost a decade, and would be there for at least a decade more before the ghoul woman made any progress. Still, it kept Carol occupied in the slow-moving days in Underworld—

The door to Carol’s Place opened, and both women looked up with a smile at their newest customer, then those smiles fell when she saw who ambled in behind her.

“Carol, I—”

“What happened?” Greta interrupted, standing from the bed to hover near Carol. Charon outside of the ninth Circle never held any good news, even on the coat tails of their shiny new smoothskin. 

“I bought Charon’s contract,” Jules answered simply, closing the distance to the front desk of the makeshift hotel, “Do you have an extra bed? Just for the night.”

Carol’s eyes jumped from Jules to Charon, and back again. Then, after a moment’s deliberation, she nodded once, “Yes, it needs fresh sheets but Greta will do that quickly, won’t you dear?” Carol asked over her shoulder at her companion. 

Jules tentatively reached through the connection to Charon to get a read on his feelings, but the door was shut tight against her prodding. It caused Jules’ heart to clench the smallest amount, before she pushed it away. Charon had done it to her so often at this point, it was to be expected. When they were in private, she would finally pry her answers from him, but for now he could keep his secrets.

Greta returned with news of another clean bed, and ushered Jules to her curtained-off room before waving at the other bed for Charon dismissively. Greta pulled Jules behind the curtains and grilled her immediately, “What happened?”

“It’s… It’s like I said, I bought Charon’s contract.”

“ _Why?_ ”

Greta’s stare was bearing down on Jules with all the force she could muster, and it proved to be more than the young girl could handle. Jules’ face cracked into a frown, and Greta noticed it immediately, “Tell me.”

“Charon’s my…” Jules’ breath caught and her eyes flickered over Greta’s shoulder, unwilling to admit it. They feared him, that much was obvious from their reaction. Even if they hadn’t, he was so adamant about refusing their bond. Would he even want anyone to know?

“Oh, boy. You really got the short end of the stick, didn’t you?” Greta’s eyes were still hard, but she at least attempted to put on a sympathetic face, “Well, I don’t need to be a genius to know Ahzrukhal’s dead, then. After all the shit he’s done to Charon, there’s no way he’d still be walking around now. Carol would love to have you around for a bit longer, but… Maybe you should keep your visit to Underworld short, for now. At least, until things calm down a bit.”

“I understand. I’ll leave in the morning,” Jules assured the ghoul woman who looked completely unbothered about the entire situation, despite their conversation. Through the crack in the curtains, Charon’s form was easily spotted, sitting on his assigned bed and looking down at his hands with a strange expression. Almost instinctually, Jules wanted to reach for him, but she clamped down on that before it could become more than an urge. 

Charon obviously had some issues, and trying to brute-force into his head would be a bad idea.

Greta bid Jules goodnight and slipped from the curtained area. Jules slipped between the scratchy sheets and let out a sigh. Sleeping in her armor wasn’t the most comfortable, but she wouldn’t be comfortably mentally without it. The only place she felt safe anymore was in Megaton. Anywhere else caused her skin to prickle at all hours of the night.

Still, with the knowledge that her soulmate was only three steps away beyond the curtain, it made sleep come a little easier.

***

Outside the Museum, Jules rounded on Charon, “I—”

“No.”

Jules visibly deflated at his rejection, before she could even get her thoughts into words. With a frown, she hitched her rifle a bit higher across her shoulders, “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I really did. You were going to ask why I shut out the bond.”

“Well?” Jules’ eyebrows raised, and Charon’s eyes narrowed in turn. The strange blue was thin at the knowledge of her backing him into the corner. Jules could practically feel the wheels turning in his head. If you could compare the bond to a hallway with two doors on the end, Jules felt like she was constantly pressed with an ear against his door. All she wanted was for him to open it.

“This isn’t the place to talk about that, smoothskin. Let’s just get a move on.”

“Okay, whatever,” Jules sighed and turned away from Charon, “We’re headed to Rivet City.”

“Not particularly ghoul-friendly. I may not be able to protect you there.”

“I’ve made it this long without you, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Jules was angry, and regretted the words immediately, but there they were. No point in taking them back when she truly meant them anyway. 

“As my employer, I place your well-being and safety over my own. It’s my duty.”

“I didn’t buy your contract for _protection_ , I bought it because you’re my—”

“No.”

Jules let out an angry groan and turned on her heel to leave. The sooner they got to Rivet City, the sooner she would see her Father. That was her true goal in all of this mess, despite all the knowledge she’d gained and jobs she’d taken on. Find Dad, find out the truth. So many conflicting stories had begun to add up, and it was high time to begin sifting through them all. 

Charon was a silent guardian, and Jules got to see his skill first-hand when they came across a few super mutants lumbering through the rubble. Charon eyed them up, plans whirring through his brain, when a silent hand moved in front of his face and opened. 

A frag grenade.

Without a word, he took it from her small hand and popped the pin with his teeth. With a moment’s pause to aim, he threw the grenade between the three mutants and readied his rifle. The explosion was the cue to jump from their cover and begin to gun down their targets.

The first one went down in the blast, and the other two had been disoriented by the kicked-up debris and flames. Jules got in close and aimed her rifle at the gaps in her mutant’s head armor, firing six successive blasts into its skull. When it only stumbled back, she assumed more was needed, but after a moment the mutant collapsed with a gurgle.

Jules turned just in time to see Charon plant a booted foot in the gut of the final mutant and send it toppling backward. Without any fanfare, he jammed the barrel of his shotgun in its mouth and pulled the trigger once – that was all he needed.

He let out a breath, then looked at Jules for a long moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and instead began picking through their meager belongings. Jules scooped up the rifle one of them had been using and strapped it to her pack. Guns were always a hot commodity in the wasteland, whether for use as weapons or use as parts. This one would get her one-hundred caps easily, probably more. 

Charon didn’t have a bag of his own, and instead slid the other rifle through his belt to hold it securely. Jules smacked herself internally – she should have at least stopped at Tulip’s to get him a bag to hold his findings in. She couldn’t expect him to just start jamming caps and explosives in his pockets.

“Leave their bodies, burning them will just attract others,” Charon said, jamming the toes of his boot into the ribs of one fallen mutant before closing the distance between himself and Jules. 

“Are you unharmed?” Jules wanted to happy at his concern, but she vaguely remembered one of the clauses of the contract. _To ensure her wellbeing at all times._  
She slowly nodded in response, turning in their original direction of travel. The most she felt was a bit dusty from the lingering smoke of the grenade, and a few blood spatters across her right shoulder from shooting the mutant’s face.

“You handled yourself well,” She ventured, talking quietly to keep their noise down. Causing commotion in the Capitol was asking for every kind of trouble.  
“You expected otherwise?”

“No, I—” Jules paused to gather her words, before pushing forward, “I just was surprised how easily it came to you.”

“Guarding a bar is not my only skill,” Charon said stiffly, and his tone shut down that topic of conversation immediately. Instead of continuing to speak, Jules let their conversation die as she let her attention to their surroundings waver.

This wasn’t what it was supposed to be like. Her soulmate was supposed to be her other half. Instead, she got this perpetually angry, giant of a man who wanted nothing to do with her. Charon wouldn’t even let her _say_ the word soulmate. Without a doubt in her mind, she knew that if his contract wasn’t firmly in her pocket, he would be walking in the other direction without looking back. 

Was something wrong with her? It was hard to be attractive in the way she was used to with the Vault’s amenities, but Jules didn’t think she was completely hideous. She could hold her own in a gunfight by now, knew how to appropriately scavenge, could set up a perimeter and use effective traps… If it wasn’t physical, then perhaps mental?

Jules wasn’t a complete dunce, her G.O.A.T. slated her to be a technology specialist, and she’d spent a great deal of time with the electronics of the vault. She could understand schematics and computers. If that wasn’t enough, she knew enough to make her own stimpacks and pharmaceuticals, thanks to her Father’s guidance. 

Through all this musing, only one question shone through – Like always. Why?

***

“We should stop here for the night. That shop will suffice.”

Jules stopped on a dime and turned to Charon. He stared back with that unnerving blank expression, as if he didn’t particularly care either way if Jules wanted to stop or continue walking. She searched his eyes for a moment, before nodding in agreement, “Alright.”

Without a word, Charon turned to the boarded-up shop and performing a cautionary check for prior residents before calling for Jules to enter. It looked as if he fully intended on hovering next to the door all night to guard their temporary home, but Jules started digging in her pack.

“I’ve got these um… bottlecap mines. I disarmed them a while back, but I should be able to rearm them easily,” The line of Charon’s shoulders relaxed the smallest amount, then he stepped away from the door to allow Jules to plant two of the mines on either side, “The blast radius isn’t that big, whoever made these didn’t do a very good job. If we stick to the back wall, we’ll be more than far enough away if they go off.”

“As you say.”

Jules’ hands paused at his unquestioning agreement, but instead focused on setting the mines and moving to the previously indicated back wall. Whatever this shop used to be, it had been thoroughly scavenged. The front counter had an ancient cash register that had been busted open, and various garbage scattered across it. There were two shelves taking up the rest of the shop floor, but they were barren.

Behind one of the shelves, Jules settled herself in the corner and started to dig in her pack again. In a separate pouch was her food stash. Though after buying Charon’s contract she was tight on caps, she’d managed to buy a few extra items off Greta to feed a second mouth. Jules pulled out a battered box of snack cakes and pried the cardboard seam apart. Eight cakes. 

Not the most nutritious dinner, but it would have to do. She dumped her four cakes out and held the box to Charon – Who hovered over her, leaning on the wall next to where she curled up. He eyed the box with almost-disdain, before sighing quietly and taking the offered food. It wasn’t hard to tell when he placed his hand carefully so that they had the maximum distance between where they traded the box off.

Jules would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt, even after all this time.


	3. A Century and a Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chickenparm.tumblr.com
> 
> here's a hella short one, live wild my dudes

_”Your soulmate isn’t in the vault, Jules.”_

_“Of course, they are. No one enters, and no one leaves.”_

_“Think about it for a sec. If your soulmate was in the vault, don’t you think you would have connected with them by now?”_

_“Maybe they aren’t born yet.”_

_“But you can feel them. If your soulmate was in the vault, you’d know them already.”_

_“I… you’re wrong, Amata.”_

 

When Charon made it twenty-seven years without a nudge from a soulmate, he had come to terms with the fact that he may never have one. When he was selected for the special training program, his handlers were confident that his conditioning was strong enough to prevent one from ever happening, even in an off-chance. 

The bombs fell, his skin started to slough off and he could pull his red hair from his head by the fistful. This was when he decided that he didn’t need a soulmate – Not when he looked like this. When he woke one morning to his nose hanging by a few strips of flesh, he felt nothing. He didn’t have a soulmate, so what did it matter what he looked like?

Almost a century and a half passed. Two years against the wall of a bar, his skills used wastefully by a bastard of an employer. It was one of the rowdiest nights so far and he’d been prepared to throw Patchwork out into the concourse again when something in his brain clicked into place. Despite his conditioning to remove it, he still was painfully aware of what had happened.

His soulmate had been born. 

Charon wanted to throw up. 

It angered him. He’d long moved passed the cruel fate of being a ghoul, but for the universe to curse him in this way was like having God himself spit in his eye. The thought of being bound to someone in this way chafed at him constantly. It only increased exponentially when the other half of the bond reached for him without hesitation. 

Charon did the only thing he could do - He pushed the perpetrator away and slammed the door behind them. He didn’t need them, and they didn’t need him. Not anymore.

Each attempt at contacting him was gifted with stronger and stronger rebuttals, until they stopped coming. Charon could feel the bond still in place, painfully aware of the fact that he could open the door and reach across the divide to his partner. Still, he turned the lock and kept it there. Nothing good would come from this. 

Then, she showed up at the bar.

Charon felt her coming. The blood in his veins sang, the nerves in his body practically vibrated with every step closer she took. It took all his training to keep his body language impassive when the door to the Ninth Circle creaked open and she walked in. 

She didn’t look at him, but she knew Charon was there. The slump of her shoulders as she looked at every patron told him what he needed to know – She felt it, too. Of course, she did. The girl hadn’t stopped pushing at the bond for the past six months. Something had happened to make her persistent again, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Charon’s thoughts were dark when she spoke to Ahzrukhal. He knew he was openly staring, and regretted it the very second she looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with him. If his skin was working properly, he knew there would be goosebumps along it. His lungs tightened as his brain realized fully that the woman in front of him was his destiny.

Charon wanted to throw up.

***

Jules wanted to throw up.

Super mutants had a bad habit of keeping their leftovers around, and currently they were walking through a cleared encampment with said leftovers baking in the harsh sun. The smell of decomposing hadn’t set in yet – these corpses were relatively fresh. Jules had a feeling of dread, despite the fact that Charon had single-handedly cleared out the three occupants of this camp.

That morning, they left the boarded-up shop after a fast breakfast of brahmin jerky. Jules had the mines back in her bag, safely disarmed, and they were on the last stretch to Rivet City. Jules could see the rusted-over smokestacks peeking out in the distance, and she doubled her pace. The faster they got there, the faster she could stop looking over her shoulder for enemies.

Not that she needed to, with Charon following her like a silent shadow.

Silent, being the key word. Charon hadn’t said a damn thing all morning, except for a single word to tell her to stay put while he cleared out the previous camp of mutants. They scavenged the supplies in silence, and moved on. 

Jules was used to traveling silently – When she wasn’t in Megaton, she was out on her own. Now that she had someone with her, she almost felt obligated to fill that silence despite the knowledge that she would be shut down right away – or not answered in the first place. 

The sun was almost at its zenith just as they rounded the last bend and Rivet City’s massive hull came into view. They still had a bit of a walk to make it to the bridge to enter, but the tension fell from Jules’ shoulders. No mutants would bother coming this close to the fortified city – it was suicide.

“Why Rivet City?”

Jules almost tripped when the voice grumbled behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she could see that Charon’s gaze was firmly set on what was in front of them. Almost as if he never said anything at all. Still, it was a welcome change from the silence, so she answered.

“My father. I’ve been looking for him, and I was told he came here.”

Charon grunted in acknowledgment, and said nothing more. After a taste of conversation, Jules craved more. Just a little, she reasoned as she spoke, “Charon, I’m sorry.”

When he didn’t answer, she looked over her shoulder again. Charon was looking at her, this time with a brush of confusion for only a moment, just enough for her to catch it. Jules continued, “Maybe I wasn’t what you were expecting—”

“I would rather not talk about this,” Charon interrupted, and Jules steeled herself. It felt wrong to abuse his contract like this, but she read it over last night and knew the general gist of it.

“Let me finish,” It was enough of a command for his mouth to clap shut, but the look he was giving the ruined road in front of them was enough to almost melt the asphalt.

“Maybe I wasn’t what you were expecting,” Jules tried again, “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, ever since that first time you pushed me away. At first, I thought you weren’t aware of soulmates, but now I know that’s wrong. Instead, I just want to say that I… I understand.”

Charon had desperation in his eyes, and Jules’ nod was like a gale-force wind sweeping her command away.

“How could you _understand_?” Charon challenged, fixing her with that angry gaze, “You have no idea.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t,” Jules agreed, and tried to give him a smile but it was weak, “I just wanted to say something to make this better for both of us. I have no clue what you’re thinking right now, but I want to.”

Charon’s chapped lips twitched for a moment as his jaw worked in tandem with his roiling thoughts. Not for the first time, Jules wanted to brute-force her way through the bond to see what he was feeling, but that was too far. Instead, she waited for the volcano to blow.

Against the odds, the steam rushed out and if he wasn’t so disciplined he probably would have deflated.

“Forget it,” Charon finally answered, and before Jules could respond he continued, “I don’t want to be your soulmate. I never wanted to be your soulmate. Forget it.”

If the wind wasn’t whistling through the remains of the buildings, if the water wasn’t lapping at the nearing hull of Rivet City, if the crunch of their footsteps wasn’t so abrasive, you could hear Jules’ heart break.


End file.
